


Abomination

by Whoharps



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Sam is barely in this FYI), (just a little at the end), (non graphic flashbacks), (sort of), Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - No Mark of Cain, Angel Biology, Angel Sounds, Angel Wings, Castiel Deals With Human Emotions, Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues, Castiel in the Bunker, Castiel is adorable, Comforting Dean, Crying Castiel, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Depressed Castiel, Enochian, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, No Smut, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Purgatory, Purring Castiel, Sad Castiel, Sleepy Castiel, Sleepy Cuddles, This is fluffy i promise, This takes place after Cas gets his Grace back in season 9, Wing Grooming, Wing Oil, Wingfic, and i wanted a non-porny wingfic, but it got away from me, cuz im ace and i have no idea how to write it, slight PTSD, so there, sort of, this was going to be a one-shot, vaguely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-06 00:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoharps/pseuds/Whoharps
Summary: “Castiel,” Dean said, sternly. “Open your eyes. I swear, nothing bad is going to happen.”It was the sound of his full name that brought Castiel out of his racing thoughts. He slowly opened his eyes, but stared resolutely at his lap, refusing to look up at Dean. His wings were still drawn up in their defensive stance, vibrating with abandon. He startled as hands cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze up to meet Dean’s.Castiel was shocked to see that, instead of the disgust and anger that he expected, Dean’s face was filled with worry and compassion. Castiel blinked at Dean uncomprehendingly.“You’re not- but… I- I- I- don’t understand,” Castiel stammered out. “I’m an abomination. They are vile.”“Cas,” Dean sighed. “You’re not disgusting, I swear.” Castiel just shook his head in a daze.Why? I don’t understand why he hasn’t left me already.





	1. Fallen Angel

**Author's Note:**

> (unbeta'd)

The bunker was silent, save for the hum of machinery, and the occasional rustle of paper as Castiel turned a page of his book. He let out a breath—more out of habit that any actual need. He ached.

Castiel rolled his shoulders, trying to alleviate the pains in them. He huffed in frustration and closed his book. Getting up, he crept through the halls to his room, trying not to wake the Winchesters. He pushed his door open gently and slipped through, closing it quietly  behind him with a soft _click_.

Castiel walked over to the bed, shedding his trench coat and tie as he went. He sat down and divested himself of his jacket as well. Finally he toed off his shoes and swung his legs up onto the bed, and, crossing them, he settled himself in the centre. He glanced around the room, taking in its bare appearance. Dean had told him that the room was his. He didn’t feel like it was. It didn’t feel like home. It felt cold and unwelcoming. Not him.

No matter. He was happy that he was allowed to be this close to the hunter. It pleased him that Dean was allowing him into his home so readily.

Castiel reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, rolling his shoulders and neck as he did so. After removing the garment, he closed his eyes and focused his grace. A bright light accompanied by a soft ringing filled the room. Castiel felt the familiar tug of bone and muscle at his shoulders. He wings pushed themselves through the skin with a wet tearing sound. He tensed and let out a soft moan of pain.

Wings weren’t meant to be pulled to this plane. Because human vessels were not meant to accommodate wings, and so much grace was required to manifest them, most angels never bothered.

Castiel had found that he needed to pull his wings out regularly otherwise the pain of his shoulders and back became too much. He supposed that, since he spent most of his time on Earth, his wings must have begun to acclimatize to that dimension. It still hurt though. Every time. The tearing of flesh and growth of bones always made him feel sick. He felt blood welling from the tears in his back, but with a flick of his grace, he quickly  wicked it away and sealed the wounds, leaving smooth skin in it’s wake.

He groaned and stretched his wings out to fill the room. The tips of them hit the far corners of the room, and the tops brushed the ceiling, and they weren’t even stretched to their full capacity. They were huge, black, monstrosities. He could never look at them. They were so tattered. Incapable of flight. They were disgusting.

Many of the feathers were gone, and the few that remained were brittle and dull—burnt in a few places. There were enough missing that the skin of his wings was exposed in several places. Almost all of the secondaries were missing, and many of the primaries. He shuddered as he felt the cool air of the bunker caress his skin. He knew without looking that the feathers were in disarray. The skin of the wings stretched so tight that the outlines of the bones could be seen. His wings ached. The muscles had become weak from disuse, and he moaned as he gave them an experimental flap.

There was a knock at the door. Castiel froze, tucking his wings tightly behind himself. The Winchesters could never see how repulsive he was.

“Cas? You okay in there?”

_Dean._

_No_.

Sam he might have been able to deal with, but not Dean. There was no way he’d be able to convince Dean to leave him alone. He’d have to try though—no way in hell was he going to let Dean see him like this.

“I’m fine Dean, go back to bed.” Castiel cursed himself for letting his voice quaver. Dean would never leave him now.

“Cas…”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“Why do I not believe that?”

“Please, Dean. Leave me alone,” Castiel said, forcefully.

“That’s it, I’m coming in,” Dean replied, leaving no room for argument.

Before Castiel could protest, he heard the lock turn with a click. He scrambled off the bed, looking for any place to conceal himself. He wished he could conceal his wings, but he wouldn’t be able to hide them in the time he had—they were too fragile after manifesting, and he would be unable to rid himself of them for several hours.

Castiel’s eyes landed on the small bathroom, and he rushed in and slammed the door, locking it. He leaned against the sink, trying to calm his pounding heart. He knew there was a mirror, but he kept his eyes trained on the ground to avoid seeing his ruined wings. He heard Dean open the door to the bedroom.

“Cas? Where are you, buddy?”

“Go away, Dean,” Castiel hissed from his hiding place. He heard Dean sigh and walk over to the bathroom door.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“No.”

“If you’re hurt or somthin’, you gotta let me help.”

“Dean…”

“C’mon, Cas, just let me—“

“Dean! There’s nothing you can do!” Castiel shouted, slamming his hands down on the sink. The porcelain cracked at the onslaught. “There’s nothing anybody can do,” he whispered, voice choking with emotion.

“Can I at least try? I don’t wanna see you hurting.”

Castiel sighed. There was no getting out of this.

“Fine. Go sit on the bed, and close your eyes,” Castiel said, resignedly.

“Okay, Cas, whatever you need,” Dean said, sounding a bit confused. Castiel heard him moving around, and when he heard the bed squeak, he cautiously opened the door to the bathroom. He tightened his wings behind him as tremors of anxiety coursed through him. He didn’t want Dean to see his shame.

True to his word, Dean was sitting on the bed, his eyes closed. Castiel cautiously opened his wings, wincing slightly at the stretch. He tried to still the tremors, but to no avail. His wings visibly quivered.

“Alright, Dean. You may open your eyes,” Castiel said, squeezing his own shut. He wrapped his arms around himself, tightly, trying to calm the anxiety within himself. He didn’t want to see the look of revulsion on Dean’s face.

“Oh, Cas…” Dean whispered. Castiel heard him get up from the bed and walk towards him. He flinched back, trembling.

_Disgusting. Ugly. Revolting._

He shuffled back, folding in on himself in shame. He tried to pull his wings in too, but they wouldn’t cooperate. The adrenaline pumping through him kept the muscles stiff, and tremors were running through them.

“Dean please,” Castiel choked out, voice quavering. “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Tell me how disgusting they are!” Castiel cried, pulling at his hair. “I know that’s what you’re thinking! They’re repulsive they—“ Castiel was sobbing now, eyes still screwed tightly shut. He realized he was breathing too fast, and tried to calm the unnecessary breaths to no avail. He cried out in alarm when he felt arms encircle him. He tried to pull away, but the grip was too strong. The arms rocked him back and forth, and he became aware of a litany of soothing words being spoken into his ear and a hand rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades.

“It’s alright, Cas. Let it out. That’s it, just breathe buddy.”

Castiel let Dean’s words wash over him, and after a moment he stopped struggling, joints locking up. He quivered there in Dean’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably, eventually collapsing into Dean’s shoulder, soaking his shirt with tears. Dean continued to speak softly and rock him back and forth as the sobs began to subside and his breathing slowed.

“That’s it, buddy. There you go,” Dean soothed as Castiel’s sobs reduced to the occasional sniffle. “You wanna tell me what that was about?”

Castiel buried his face further into Dean’s should and shook his head. Dean guided the two of them towards the bed, pushing Castiel down to sit on it. Castiel was barely aware of his surroundings.

_I don’t deserve this. He hates me. I am sickening._

“C’mon, Cas, look at me,” Dean said, pulling away from the embrace and tilting Castiel’s chin up. Castiel kept his eyes resolutely closed.

_Revolting. Abhorrent. Abomination._

“Castiel,” Dean said, sternly. “Open your eyes. I swear, nothing bad is going to happen.”

It was the sound of his full name that brought Castiel out of his racing thoughts. He slowly opened his eyes, but stared resolutely at his lap, refusing to look up at Dean. His wings were still drawn up in their defensive stance, vibrating with abandon. He startled as hands cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze up to meet Dean’s.

Castiel was shocked to see that, instead of the disgust and anger that he expected, Dean’s face was filled with worry and compassion. Castiel blinked at Dean uncomprehendingly.

“You’re not- but… I- I- I- don’t understand,” Castiel stammered out. “I’m an abomination. _They_ are vile.”

“Cas,” Dean sighed. “You’re not disgusting, I swear.” Castiel just shook his head in a daze.

_Why? I don’t understand why he hasn’t left me already._

Dean ran his hands through his hair and let out a long breath.

“I can tell that’s not getting through to you,” Dean mumbled, scrunching up his forehead in consternation. “I guess I’ll have to show you.”

“What do you mean?” Castiel whispered, wings drawing up farther and the remaining feathers fluffing up in alarm. Dean put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

“Nothing bad, I promise. May I touch them?” Dean asked, meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“You want to…? But- I- Why? They’re repugnant.”

“Just—“ Dean paused with a frustrated huff, “let me touch them?”

“O-okay”

Dean reached a hand up to Castiel’s wings, and hovered just above the skin. He glanced at Castiel, who shakily nodded his assent, before gently bringing his fingertips to meet the exposed flesh.

Castiel shuddered at the gentle touch. He hadn’t touched his wings since the fall. They rustled as they tensed up even more, shaking violently.

“Shh, Cas, it’s alright,” Dean whispered. “I’m not gonna hurt you, its alright.” He gently laid his whole hand on the bare skin. Castiel whimpered at the sudden warmth, and screwed his eyes shut. He was overwhelmed with sensation and emotion. Tingles seemed to radiate from Dean’s touch, warming the surrounding skin. He relaxed slightly when he realized that the hand wasn’t doing anything to him—it just sat there. Tears prickled at his eyes.

Castiel jumped a little when he saw Dean’s other hand begin to rise.

“Hey, hey. I’m not doin’ anything bad. I’m just gonna touch the other wing,” Dean reassured him. Castiel relaxed minutely, although tremors were still running through him. The hand continued its journey up to his other wing, finding another open patch of skin and resting there. Castiel keened at the touch.

Dean let him get used to the touch, before gently rubbing at the pale skin with his thumbs. Castiel slowly began to relax into the touches. His wings began to relax too, no longer trembling so violently—only a shudder running through them now and then.

“Talk to me Cas.”

 _Dean._ Dean _. He’s not repulsed by me. I don’t—_

“I don’t—“ Castiel sniffed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Okay,” Dean said gently, continuing to gently rub the wings. “How ‘bout you tell me why you didn’t want me to see your wings?”

“They’re hideous.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.”

“I’m not.”

“They’re revolting. How can you say that they are beautiful?”

“Because they are,” Dean said, simply. “They’re a little banged up, maybe—“ Castiel scoffed at that, “—but they are beautiful. How could they not be? They’re angel wings!” Castiel flinched at that.

“Sorry excuse for an angel.”

“Don’t say that. You’re the best angel there is.”

Castiel looked up at Dean when he said this, and was surprised to see the sincerity in this face. He looked away, unable to bear such honesty. He couldn’t make a good angel, couldn’t be a human—he was nothing. No-one. _Abomination._ His chest felt hollow. Dean was silent for a moment.

“Castiel, I’m going to do something for you,” Dean said, seeming to have come to a decision. “Lay down on your stomach.”

“What? Why?” Castiel asked, worry seeping into his voice.

“Just do it, Cas.”

Castiel furrowed his brow in confusing before doing as Dean had asked. He felt strangely vulnerable in this position. He began to draw in his wings to shield himself, but Dean’s hands stopped his movements.

“None of that, now,” Dean soothed. “Just relax.”

Dean gradually eased the wings back open, and Castiel reluctantly allowed it. Suddenly Dean’s hands began to massage into the delicate muscles in his wings. Castiel gasped, shying away at from the unexpected touch. Dean steadied him, murmuring reassurances. Castiel forced himself to relax. Dean was going to do whatever it was he was going to do, there was no point in struggling. He didn’t care what happened to him anymore.

Dean’s fingers continued to kneed the aching muscles, causing Castiel to grunt and gasp in pain. Gradually, though, the pain began to recede, and was replaced by a pleasing warmth. Castiel began to melt into the touch, sighing, although his wings were still in a defensive posture. The hands began to wander as Castiel grew more relaxed. They kept to the bare patched of skin, lingering over the dozens of scars. Eventually they began to move towards the feathers, cautiously stroked one with a finger. Castiel’s whole body shuddered. Sparks seemed to travel down his spine, and heat radiated from the spot.

“Dean…” he groaned, as shivers wracked him.

Dean retracted the touch, but continued to brush his hands over Castiel’s wings, gently caressing the ravaged skin. Castiel lost himself in the touches. He’d forgotten how good being preened felt. He was dimly aware of wetness coursing down his cheek. He could hear Dean’s murmurs of reassurance. He tried to open his wings more to relax into the tender touch, only to have a wave of pain course through him. He cried out and hid his face in his arms, panting heavily as he waited for the pain to stop.

“Cas! What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Dean sounded panicked.

“N-no, you didn’t hurt me,” Castiel gasped through the pain. “My w-wings cramped up. The muscles have a-atrophied and it’s difficult to m-move them.” Dean let out a breath at this information, and resumed the massage—gentler this time.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Dean asked, caressing a large scar that bisected the back of Castiel’s right wing.

Castiel was momentarily taken aback by the question. He blinked. What could Dean do?

“I… I don’t know,” he said, finally.

“Okay. You think of something, you let me know, alright?”

“…Alright.”

Castiel could feel Dean cautiously bringing his hands closer to the feathers on his wings.

“I’m going to touch your feathers now, is there anything I shouldn’t do?”

“Just be gentle, please,” Castiel breathed. “No-one—not even me—has touched them in years. They’re very sensitive.”

“Okay, Cas.”

Castiel felt the hands caress him for a moment before gently moving to card through his feathers. He gasped at the onslaught of sensation. He could feel the pads of Dean’s fingers scratch at his skin and gently pull through the tattered feathers. The gentle tugging as the barbs were rearranged to their proper position. The feeling was overwhelming. He hadn’t been touched this way in… he didn’t know how long. Centuries? Millennia?

Castiel’s shoulders began to shake with repressed sobs. His wings twitched and arched into Dean’s touch, chasing sensation. The pure feeling of being _touched_ overwhelmed him. He’d had physical contact through his vessel, sure, but this, _this,_ was him. No barriers. Nothing. This was his True Form and being caressed lovingly—for that’s what it was, loving. He felt the ragged remains of his Grace reach out and follow the new sensations, reveling in them.

Castiel let out a sob. He couldn’t contain it any longer. He was crying because he was feeling touched. It was overpowering. It was raw. It felt human.

“Shit, Cas, are you okay?” Dean cried with alarm, yanking his hands away from Castiel’s wings.

“Don’t stop. Please,” Castiel whimpered, ashamed of how needy he sounded. He signed in relief when the hands cautiously began to preen his wings once more.

Hands combed through his few remaining primary flight feathers. Caressed the skin where his secondaries should be. Gently massaged the litany of scars that marred Castiel’s wings. They lingered over a burn mark at the base of the right wing. The skin was white and stretched, but it was still discernable as the shape of a hand. A callused hand inserted itself over the scar, fitting perfectly. Castiel could feel the tingling of connection, his Grace straining to connect. That hand had grabbed him in the depths of hell. It was the one scar he did not hate, because it signified the day that Dean Winchester came into his life.

“Cas…?” Dean said, awe tinging his voice.

“Yes. That scar is from you.”

“Shit, Cas! I’m so fuc—“ Dean tried to retract his hand, but the lingering strands of Grace held it there firmly. Castiel heard Dean gasp at the sensation. “Cas, I—“

“Dean!” Castiel interrupted. “Dean, its alright. That scar is the only one that I treasure the memory of. The Righteous Man’s mark is precious. Your mark is precious…” Castiel trailed of. He released his Grace’s hold on Dean, and the touch was immediately withdrawn. He grumbled at the loss of contact, his wing bucking up to regain the touch.

“Cas, I—“

“Shut up, Dean”

Dean chuckled and resumed his ministrations on the ragged wings. Castiel melted into the feeling. He was floating. Warm, lethargic. He hadn’t felt this relaxed and safe since he was a fledgling. He was protected. Dean would never hurt him. How could he have thought that earlier? Dean kept him safe. _Dean._

Castiel twitched a little as he felt the hands reach the base of his wings.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered.

“Cas, what do you need?”

“At the base of my wings there is a small nub, it is my uropygial gland. It produces oil that keeps my feathers healthy,” Castiel said, softly. “If its amenable to you, would you use my oil to preen my wings?”

“Yeah, ‘course, Cas. Anything.”

Dean’s hands roved through the sparse feathers at the base of Castiel’s wings, stopping when they located the gland.

“So… I just rub it?”

“Yes. Please be gentle, it is very sensitive.”

Castiel felt Dean’s fingers gently stroke over the glad, gradually pressing harder when Castiel gave no indication of pain. Castiel cooed softly in pleasure as Dean continued to massage the gland. The nerve endings tingled, sending pleasant shivers up and down his spine. Castiel eventually felt the gland loosen, and sighed in relief. He felt oil weep from the small nub of flesh, the sweet scent of it reaching his nostrils. He realized that he had begun to purr. He hadn’t known he could do that in a vessel.

“Okay, so I just rub this on your feathers?” Dean asked, gathering the oil onto his fingers and sniffing it.

“Yes. Although it would be good to rub it into the skin as well, it is very dry,” Castiel murmured, utterly lost in a haze of contentment.

Dean swiped his hands of the oil gland once more, and then brought them up to card through the ragged primaries. Castiel moaned at the feeling, and released a few satisfied clicks and murmurs. He felt the hands gather more oil, painstakingly coating each individual feather. Castiel was purring in earnest now, the low grumbling vibrating from deep in his chest.

“Cas?”

“…Yes, Dean?”

“Are you… purring?”

“Angels purr when we feel safe and happy.”

“O-kaay… And were you making bird noises a second ago?”

“Yes, Dean. Those noises are a form of Enochian. Did you think we spoke in English all the time?”

“Well… no… but—” Dean tried to say before Castiel cut him off.

“Keep preening, Winchester.”

Dean obliged, and Castiel sighed in relief. He lost himself in the feeling of each feather being thoroughly coated in oil. He could feel skin of his wings being gently rubbed, his oil seeping in to nourish the skin. He hummed happily. He felt himself drifting, gradually drifting in and out of awareness.

-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-

Dean ran his hands through the brittle feathers of Cas’s wings, reveling in how soft they felt. It broke his heart to see what had become of his angel— _his angel? Where did that come from?_ He dismissed the thought quickly. That didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was helping Cas. His angel had suffered enough, he deserved this. He deserved love.

Dean could hear and feel the purr coming from deep inside Cas’s chest. It was strange, but once he got used to it, it was actually rather endearing. Under the ministrations of his hands, Cas was producing soft bird sounds interspersed with hollow clicks—it was adorable, really. He had never seen Cas this relaxed before. He resolved to de this for him regularly from now on—Cas needed it.

_How can he think he is an abomination? How could he think that? Can’t he see what I see?_

Dean sighed, and looked down at the being beneath is hands. To his surprise, Cas appeared to be asleep. The angel was no longer purring, but he could here breathy coos coming from the angel. They sounded suspiciously like snores. Dean smiled. Cas was beautiful like this—and yes, he really just thought that. Cas was beautiful.

Dean huffed a laugh to himself, shaking his head in resignation.

_You got it bad, Dean. You got it bad._

Dean shrugged away his inner voice—now was not the time to question his sexuality—and got up off the bed slowly, so as not to wake the angel. Cas was sleeping on top of the covers, so Dean crept off to get a spare blanket. As he was rummaging through the linen closet, he heard Sam coming up behind him.

“Dean?” he heard Sam say, groggily. “What’re you doin’ still up?”

“I’m just getting’ an extra blanket for Cas. Its not that late, is it?” Dean said, straightening up to face his brother.

“Dean, it’s three in the fucking morning. I only got up to get a glass of water.”

Dean was surprised at that. Three in the morning? That mean he had been with Cas for almost four hours. Huh.

“Musta lost track of time. Go get your water, bitch,” Dean said, not without affection.

“Jerk,” Sam grumbled back.

As Sam stumbled away, Dean pulled the softest blanket out of the closet and padded his way back to Cas’s room. He gently pushed the door open, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the angel was still asleep. He gently covered his friend with the blanket, pulling it up over his bare shoulders.

Dean swallowed down the lump of emotion that was forming at the sight of the angel so reduced. It broke his heart to see the mangled remains that were his friend’s wings. It was easy to forget how much Cas had been through, but now it stared him in the face. He sniffed and scrubbed at his eyes in frustration at the tears prickling at them. Nothing could be done about it, it was all in the past. What he could do now was care for his angel.

Dean bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Cas’s head, and ran a hand through the dark locks.

“Sweet dreams, angel,” he whispered, before clicking out the light and leaving the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was completely blown away by the response to the first chapter. I wasn't expecting so many people to read this little fic! Thank you everyone for your comments and kudos! <3
> 
> **Additional Warnings:** Please note the slight change in the tags. Last chapter, Cas had a minor panic attack that was not described in depth, this chapter I did take it farther. He most definitely has a panic attack. I also describe it in more detail, so be aware if that is something that triggers you. (On that note, I have never had a panic attack, so I'm going off of what I've read. Please do tell me if I've gotten something horribly wrong)
> 
> _On a side note: For the sake of the story and my personal preference, Castiel can taste food properly in this fic._

Castiel awoke slowly. He was warm all over, and he felt loose and comfortable. He sighed happily and nuzzled farther into the bed beneath him.

_Mmmmmmmmm_...

His quiet was shattered when he heard a knock on the door. He froze. Then he heard a whisper.

“Cas?”

It was Dean of course. He sighed. He shifted to sit and tell Dean to come in, but before he could do so he felt the drag of fabric on his skin of his wings.

_Shit._

_SHIT._

Why were his wings out? What happened? He wracked at his memories, desperately trying to remember— _oh._

_Dean. Preening. I can’t believe I did that. Oh, Father, what have I done?_

Castiel flinched as he heard the door unlatch. He looked up to see Dean’s head poking through the open door. Castiel instinctively drew his wings around himself, still not quite believing that Dean was not horrified by them.

“Mornin’ sunshine, how are you feeling?” Dean said, a soft smile splitting his face. Castiel gave a slight smile of his own in return—more of a quirk of the side of his mouth than and actual smile.

“I am... alright, Dean.”

“Good!” Dean exclaimed, opening the door up further to reveal the tray balanced precariously in his hands. “I brought you breakfast!”

Castiel blinked at him, confused.

“I do not eat, Dean.”

“So? Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the taste,” Dean grinned, cheekily. He placed the tray on Castiel’s knees, and then sat himself down on the edge of the bed. On it was a cup of coffee—with milk and sugar, just how Castiel liked it—and a heaping plate of pancakes and bacon, practically drowning in maple syrup. Castiel had to admit, it looked delicious. He picked up the fork and dug into the pancakes, moaning at the taste.

Neither spoke as Castiel ate. He reveled in the silent company—nothing was expected of him, he could just... be.

After he finished eating, Dean placed the now empty tray on the floor beside the bed. He looked at Castiel, holding his gaze for a moment before speaking.

“So, Cas,” he said, gently. Castiel stared at him, slightly nervous at his tone. “I want you to keep your wings out in the bunker.”

Castiel froze. His wings drew tightly against his back and shuddered slightly. Dean reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. Castiel gave an involuntary flinch and cursed himself at his weakness. Dean immediately brought his hand back, palm out to show that he wouldn’t do anything without Castiel’s permission.

“Why?” Castiel inquired, nervously. It was bad enough that Dean had seen him, but Sam? He couldn’t bear it if another soul saw his shame.

“I just want you to be healthy, Cas, and hiding your wings away  _can’t_ be good for them.”

“I—”

“Cas, please.”

“But... Sam—”

“I’ll talk to Sam. He won’t look at your wings if I tell him not to.”

Castiel looked down at his plate and contemplated this for a moment. Having his wings out would be wonderful, but did he want to risk...?

“You don’t have to decide right this second,” Dean said, intruding on his thoughts. “I just want you to be happy, Cas. I need you.”

Those words again.  _Purgatory. Dirt. Blood. Pain. Dean! What have you done to me, Naomi? No, no, NO! Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean..._

Castiel was snapped out of his memories by a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, shrugging it off. He realized that his breathing had become heavy and quick, and he forced himself to calm down. He was overwhelmed by the memories and the anxiety about his wings. As his breathing evened out, and he came back to himself, he looked up to see Dean looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. He berated himself for causing Dean worry. Why did this keep happening?

“What was that, Cas? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Dean asked, voice tinged with panic.

“I...” Castiel sighed. “I was...  _flooded_ by too many feelings at once. Sometimes things—words or objects usually—they make me... remember...  _things_. Painful things,” his voice hitched, memories threatening to wash over him once more. “My indecision about my wings, coupled with that fact, led to what you just saw,” he finished, voice tinged with shame. His gaze fixed on a loose thread in the comforter before him.

“Oh, Cas...” Dean whispered, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He sat in silence for a moment. “Cas, can I hug you?”

Castiel thought about that for a moment. A hug? It sounded rather nice... But that would mean Dean would touch him—might touch his wings. It was like there were two sides of himself, one was desperate for Dean’s comfort, the other loathe to let anything touch the...  _things_ on his back. In the end, the desire for comfort was too strong, and Castiel nodded at Dean. He found himself enveloped in a pair of strong arms, Dean’s muscled chest pressing against him. One of the hunter’s hands began to rub at his back. Warmth filled him, and he buried his head into the hunter’s shoulder. A hand came up and cupped the back of his neck, fingers toying with the wisps of hair at the nape. Dean’s voice quietly rumbled out soothing words of comfort.

Castiel allowed himself to relax into the tender embrace as the hands caressed him affectionately. He felt tears well up in his eyes, and he squeezed them shut in an attempt to stave off the inevitable flood.

Eventually he lost himself in Dean’s caring touch. He felt his wings relax, no longer trembling. He had the sudden urge to envelop the hunter with them. Feeling comfortable enough, he decided to do so. Contrary to Castiel’s expectations, Dean had not shown any signs of being disgusted by his wings.

Castiel brought his wings up slowly. They rustled a bit as the sensitive muscles shifted. He winced slightly at the strain, and he felt Dean squeeze him tighter at the twitch. He reached his wings out and cautiously wrapped them around Dean, not quite touching him. He heard Dean chuckle.

“It’s okay, Cas, you can touch me.”

Reassured by Dean’s words, Castiel finally placed his wings around the hunter’s shoulders and back. The action  _should_ have enveloped Dean in a silky cocoon of feathers, but with the state of his wings that was not the case. The once-mighty appendages cradled the hunter, open skin and feathers brushing against the cotton of his shirt. Castiel clicked in frustration.

“What’s wrong, Cas?”

“It’s... it’s not the same. I can’t— I can’t wrap you in my feathers, I-I can’t give you warmth, I can’t feel your skin against me feathers, I can’t— I can’t—” Castiel sobbed. His bony wings wrapped tightly around the hunter, pulling himself flush against the other man as he cried into the his shoulder.

“Shhh... It’s alright. It’s gonna be okay,” Dean soothed, rocking him back and forth in his arms. “Hush now, sunshine, don’t cry.”

Castiel’s hiccupping sobs eased after a few minutes, leaving him sniffling. He tried to pull away from Dean, but the hunter held him against his chest securely, still cradling Castiel in his arms.

“Those things you said, ‘wanting to give me warmth’ ‘n shit, you can still do that. You  _are_ doing that.”

“Dean, it’s not the same,” Castiel cried in frustration. “I want—No, I  _need_ to give you those comforts. It’s in my instincts to protect and care for my family,” he said, desperately. “The urges become more intense whenever I have my wings out, I don’t know why.”

“Alright,” Dean said, nodding. “Tell me this: why can’t I be the one to protect and care for you?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, almost daring Castiel to contradict him.

Castiel gaped at Dean in astonishment.

_I’m not worthy of that, how can he offer such a precious gift to me? Why would he do that? How could he stoop so low—_

“Stop that,” Dean said sharply, interrupting Castiel’s racing thoughts. Castiel’s looked up at him sharply in confusion. “I know you’re thinking that you’re not good enough or some shit like that, but you’ve got to trust me on this. You  _are_ good enough. You  _deserve_ protection and comfort.”

“I... I don’t...”

“Cas, shut up.”

Suddenly Castiel found himself surrounded yet again by Dean’s strong arms, only this time, Castiel could feel Dean’s palms resting on the base of his wings. It was oddly reassuring. He started to curl his wings around Dean again, but was stopped by Dean’s hand.

“Not like this. Let me,” Dean said, softly, carefully maneuvering Castiel’s wings and his own body.

Castiel found himself curled in Dean’s lap, wings wrapped around his own shoulders. Dean had settled himself against the headboard cuddling Castiel to his chest. His arms were snug around Castiel’s wings and arms. The gentle weight pressing in on Castiel’s wings made him relax almost instantly. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. He felt... warm. Safe.  _Home_.

It reminded Castiel of when he had been cradled and insulated by other angels when he had been a fledgling, except it was  _better_. He was surprised at that. Since Dean didn’t have wings, he assumed that he would never be able to give him that level of security—he had been wrong. He nuzzled his face up against Dean’s neck, breathing in the hunter’s faint scent.

_Leather, whiskey, and engine grease._

It was the most wonderful thing he had ever smelled.

Castiel pressed himself closer to Dean, plastering himself to the hunter’s chest. He could feel the thrum of Dean’s heart, and the gradual rise and fell of his chest as he breathed. He cooed contentedly, worries forgotten for the moment.

Castiel felt Dean chuckle, and he clicked happily at the vibrations. Dean stroked his hands up and down Castiel’s back, causing Castiel to shiver contentedly. He began to purr quietly as he felt Dean squeeze him a little tighter and begin to rock him from side to side. He became aware of a light melody coming from the hunter’s lips.

“ _Hey Jude, don’t make it bad_

_Take a sad song and make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better..._ ”

Castiel felt himself drifting, sinking into the light melody. He gradually slipped off into unconsciousness, clutching at Dean like a lifeline.

-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-

Castiel awoke to a hum of voices. Dean was speaking to Sam in lowered tones.

“...Sam, seriously, you can’t look at his wings, okay? Can you do that?”

“Yeah, Dean, but how come?”

“He’s really self-conscious about them, and the only reason he let me see them was because I pretty much forced him to.”

“How bad could they even be?”

“They’re really banged up, Sammy, it’s... it’s heartbreaking.”

There was a pause. Castiel realized that a blanket was tucked around him, hiding his wings from Sam. He felt a rush of gratitude towards Dean for respecting his wishes even when he was asleep.

“Okay, Dean. I promise I won’t look at his wings unless he says that I can.”

“Thank you, Sam.”

Castiel heard a rustling and then footsteps. Sam was leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Castiel waited for the footsteps to recede before flickering open his eyes to look at Dean.

Dean had a brooding look on his face. He was staring into the distance, lost in his own thoughts.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel whispered. Dean gave a small start and glanced down at him sharply.

“Heard all that, did you?” Dean said, ruefully. Castiel smiled up at the hunter.

“Yes, I did. I really appreciate you respecting my wishes—even when I was asleep,” he said, indicating the blanket. Dean looked down at him tenderly and smiled.

“There’s no need to thank me for that, it’s just what any decent person would do,” Dean said, subdued. He didn’t meet Castiel’s eyes.

“Please do not sell yourself so short, Dean,” Castiel replied, catching Dean’s gaze again. The hunter looked so sad. He didn’t understand. “Why are you sad?” he asked, quietly. Dean’s devastated gaze bore into him.

“It’s just... I’ve failed you, Cas!” Dean burst out. Before Castiel could contradict him, he spoke again. “You— you felt the need to thank me for  _decent, human, kindness_ , Cas. For respecting your wishes when you were asleep! For not  _betraying your trust!_  It’s something that nice people do!” he said in frustration. He looked as though he was about to cry. “It breaks my heart that you don’t understand that. I know it’s mainly my fault, and I am so,  _so_ , sorry for that.”

“Dean...” Castiel murmured. How could the hunter think that it was his fault? He didn’t understand. Castiel was the one who deserved ridicule and blame, not Dean.

_How can Dean even look at me? Touch me?_

Dean shook him a little, breaking him out of his reverie.

“Cas! You gotta believe me when I say that I don’t blame you! I don’t hate you!” Dean exclaimed. “I am not repulsed by you, I... To be honest, I actually enjoy touching you,” he finished, shyly.

“Why?”

“Because I...” Dean paused, seeming to gather his resolve. “I love you.”

Castiel’s brain ground to a screeching halt. He stared at Dean blankly.  _Love?_ Surely he hadn’t heard correctly. How could anybody  _love_ him? He didn’t know what to feel. He knew that he loved Dean, but he had never in a million— _billion—_ years expected that Dean would even consider loving him back.

Castiel realized that he was breathing far to quickly. He tried to get himself under control, and failed. He scrambled back out of Dean’s arms, trembling. He could see that the hunter was saying something, but he couldn’t hear anything over the rushing of blood in his ears. His breaths were short gasps now. He couldn’t get enough oxygen, he felt as though he was drowning.

“Cas!” Dean voice broke through like a blow. Castiel flinched back in surprise. Dean was  _right there._ ”Cas! Can I touch you?”

Castiel stared at Dean blankly, his words had barely registered. Touch. That sounded nice. He nodded jerkily, heart thrumming in his ears. He was surrounded by warmth. Dean’s arms were holding him close. Grounding him.

“Breathe with me, Cas, c’mon. Feel my breath, try to copy it,” Dean said, soothingly, steadily rocking them back and forth.

Gradually, Castiel’s breathing calmed. He came back to himself slowly. He became aware of soothing words being spoken in his ear, and the indistinct vibrations of Dean’s chest.

Castiel buried his face in the hunter’s shoulder, huddling as close as humanly (or angelically) possible. He felt tears roll down his face, soaking Dean’s shirt.

“You back with me, sunshine?” Dean murmured. Castiel nodded into his shoulder, keeping his face hidden, embarrassed at his outburst.

“M’sorry,” Castiel mumbled into Dean’s shirt.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart. S’not your fault,” Dean said, compassionately. Castiel shook his head, pressing himself closer to the hunter. “Cas, a panic attack is nothing to be sorry for. D’you think you could tell me what caused it?”

“I—” Castiel’s throat was still raw from the panic attack. He cleared his throat, futilely. Dean pulled away before he could protest, shifting to the other side of the bed. A knot grew in Castiel’s stomach as the hunter moved away from him.

_Oh, Father, he hates me. No. I can’t—_

There was a glass of water being held to his lips. Oh. Dean wasn’t leaving him. The knot loosed again. He greedily gulped down half the glass before he withdrew.

“D’you think you’re up for talkin’ now?” Dean asked, smiling at Castiel, who nodded in assent.

“You said that you... you  _l-love_ me. Why?”

“I don’t know. I just do. You’re  _my_ Cas. My angel.” An grin spread over Dean’s face as he said this. Castiel could see the sincerity in the hunter’s eyes. It shocked him.

_He_ loves  _me..._

“I— I just...” Castiel began, trying to find the right words. “I never... I never expected you... to love me  _back._ ”

Dean gaped at him in astonishment, then the grin returned with full force. This time, utterly filled with joy.

“You love me?” he asked, practically vibrating in excitement. “You  _love_ me? Like,  _love,_ love?” he attempted to clarify, although Castiel wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. He bit his lip nervously, finally ready to speak the words he had been wanting to say for over five years.

“I love you, Dean Winchester.”

It was like a great weight had lifted from Castiel’s shoulders. Warmth blossomed through him when he uttered those words, and he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips.

“And I love you, Castiel.”

Tears of happiness pooled in Castiel’s eyes. He hadn’t felt this much joy in... Well, he didn’t know how long actually. A long time. He stared at Dean, seeing that his eyes were glimmering with tears as well. Castiel threw himself into the hunter’s arms, clinging desperately to his waist and nuzzling his shoulder.

Castiel instinctively brought his wings up to enfold the other man, but stopped himself before he rested them upon Dean’s shoulders. He looked into Dean’s eyes, questioningly, and, when the hunter nodded, he brought his tattered wings around the man’s shoulders, holding him tight.

This time, it didn’t feel wrong. He was cradling his friend. Mate? Lover? It didn’t matter. He held  _Dean_ close to himself, reveling in the warmth and security he provided. He pushed his nose into the hunter’s neck, inhaling that wonderful scent again, practically melting into Dean’s arms.

The two of them clung together, each reveling in the others presence.

They were  _whole_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are really appreciated! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos/comments if you liked it <3


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